


trust me (I can take you there)

by takesguts



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: BDSM Universe, Blowjobs, Exhibitionism, Facials, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Light D/s, M/M, Mild BDSM, Mild Humiliation, Multi, PWP, Prompt Fill, Public Sex, mild dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 20:06:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9674075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takesguts/pseuds/takesguts
Summary: prompt #4: Kinda like how Fiona and that guy (I forget his name), where he fingered her on the train except it's Ian and Mickey (strangers or not, up to you)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Shorter then the last prompt fulfillment, but I am p sure this will become a universe now. Kinda some Fifty Shades of Grey shit, only not cause I've never seen the movie or read the books BUT. It will be a BDSM universe. So there's that.

Tuesday nights, Thursday nights, and Friday nights.

 

 

  
Their schedule.

 

 

  
Ian grins at the word _their_ , because it is, it's theirs now. Once Mickey had given up avoiding him, ignoring him. After the first night - when Lip had gotten too drunk at dinner, ended up passing out at the Gallagher house and Ian offered Mickey a ride home - one thing had lead to another, and well. Needless to say, it had been a long two weeks before Ian had managed to track the other man down.

 

 

  
Ian had a penchant for pretty things; like the paintings in his apartment, the long white haired cat siblings he adopted, and his brother's boyfriends wide, blue eyes as he peered up at Ian while they fucked on his kitchen counter.

 

 

  
Not that Mickey's eyes were the only thing pretty about him, certainly not. Not with that pink mouth, that gorgeous, full ass that took his cock so fucking well it was like he was born to do it. Everything about Mickey was stunning, bottom to top, head to feet.

 

 

  
By the time Ian steps out of work that evening, loosening his tie and undoing the first few buttons of his dress shirt while waiting at his stop, he's practically vibrating with excitement. Few things in his week rank above the gorgeous flush Mickey's face makes when he steps onto the car, always the same one so that they don't miss each other.

 

 

  
When he can hear the subway approaching, he's whistling happily, damn near rocking back and forth on his feet, hands shoved into his pockets. He's been thinking about this all day. It's Friday, which means he saw Mickey yesterday, but the El had been crowded and Ian was forced to sit across from the smaller man, unable to do anything but grin and stare unabashedly. They didn't speak the whole ride, but Mickey's cheeks stayed pink and precious even while he rolled his eyes and scoffed at Ian's obvious attention.

 

 

Today, though, today was different - because on Fridays, Mickey came home to Ian. Under the pretense he was on kid duty - a part of Mickey's life Lip had no intention of being involved in quite yet - the dark haired man was freed from boyfriend duties. Instead he spent the night in Ian's apartment, curled up and gorgeous on his mattress while they divided their evening between different take out places, b list horror films and fucking - lots and lots of fucking.

 

 

  
Above ground, it's snowing heavily, and Ian isn't entirely unsurprised to see the car mostly empty when he gets on. In the very back, Mickey is sitting alone, peering down at his cell phone. Whistling cheerily, even louder, Ian makes his way over to the smaller man, mouth twisted in a lecherous grin.

 

 

  
"Seat taken?" He asks, just for shits, and beams wider at the flat, unimpressed look Mickey gives him in response.

 

 

  
They can see the whole rest of the car; the homeless man sleeping in the front, the two business men on their cellphones and the older woman gazing out the window. There's a row of seats in front of them, though, concealing most of their bodies and Ian doesn't hesitate to snatch Mickey's hand, settling it on the crotch of his dress pants.

 

 

  
"Get me hard," he instructs quietly, damn near snickering at the soft hitch in Mickey's breathing, the way his tattooed hand squeezes eagerly around the length of Ian's flaccid cock. At first, Mickey had spat and snarled; fearful of getting caught, indignant of Ian's arrogant demands. But as the weeks passed, and Ian's relentless advances continued, the redhead discovered firsthand the pliancy that took over Mickey's attitude once he'd been fucked well. Now, he no longer discouraged or avoided Ian's inappropriately public affections, at least not as aggressively.

 

 

  
"There are people," Mickey protests, even as he starts actively groping Ian's dick, with the obvious intention of fulfilling the redhead's request.

 

 

  
"They're not paying any attention," Ian argues lazily, closing his eyes and sighing as he lets his head tilt back. Mickey's hand is steady and sure, smaller then Ian's own hand, but he's enthusiastic in his ministrations and Ian sighs again, harsher as his cock stiffens.

 

 

  
"Shut up," Mickey hisses, and Ian cracks his eyes open enough to glance over at his face. Mickey is shifting his eyes restlessly between Ian and the rest of the subway, looking squirrely as fuck, and that won't do.

 

 

  
Twisting his mouth in disapproval, he snatches Mickey's wrist briefly while he gets his slacks open with his other hand, "It's important to follow your own advice," he says crudely, letting go of Mickey's wrist to place it on the back of his skull, pressing firmly.

 

 

  
Mickey shoots him a panicked look as Ian guides his face down to his crotch, tries to shrug Ian off but he squeezes his fingers harder, nails biting sharply.

 

 

  
"Suck," he demands softly, but there is no mistaking that it is an order. They've only just started playing, like this, and he's asking for a lot right now, he knows. But Mickey is lovely when he submits; the rush it gives Ian is better then any substance high he's ever had.

 

 

  
The train comes to a stop just as Mickey's tentatively lapping at the head of his cock. Ian sucks in air through his teeth, tangling his fingers in the back of Mickey's hair. One of the business men is getting off, still on his phone and he doesn't glance at the back of the car even as Ian hisses for Mickey to do it again. No one else gets on.

 

 

  
The homeless man slumps forward further, and doesn't stir. Ian shifts a little, sliding down a bit in his seat for easier movement. He grips his cock with one hand, dropping his eyes down to stare at the red of Mickey's cheeks, the way his tongue his sticking out just slightly so Ian can rub his tip along it. Drool is pooling at the front of his bottom jaw, and when Ian guides his cock back again there's a string of saliva that's still connecting between him and Mickey's mouth.

 

 

  
Mickey peers up at him, clearly humiliated even as he laps at at it before fitting his mouth around Ian's cockhead, suckling wetly. Ian drops his head back again, harder then the first time and snickers lowly, pelvis twisting at the warm suction. Mickey is so attentive to detail, seems to remember more and more about the little things Ian likes.

 

 

  
Another stop; no one gets off, but three women get on, chatting loudly and obnoxiously with each other, not even bothering to sit down as they continue their conversation. Ian uses the added noise to push down on Mickey's head roughly, until he can feel Mickey's throat constrict around him as he gags.

 

 

  
"Yeah," Ian breathes, eyes briefly rolling back. He let's Mickey pull back immediately after, toes curling at the soft slurping sound of Mickey's mouth, the heavy slide of more saliva down the length of his dick. He hears Mickey breathe harshly, panting as silently as he can and Ian doesn't have to look down again to know he's getting glared at.

 

 

  
"C'mon," he murmurs, tugging his fingers in Mickey's hair impatiently; he wants to come in Mickey's mouth. Well, he really wants to come on his face, but he knows he's pushing boundaries as it is.

 

 

  
The deep breath Mickey takes before opening his mouth again nearly makes Ian laugh. It's so cute, how he's obviously steeling himself, clearly determined. This time, Ian lets him slide all the way down himself until he's comfortable, tongue curling on the underside of his cock. There are endless praises on the tip of Ian's own tongue and he wishes they were alone so he could share them. Mickey responds well to praise, even better then to punishment despite how nice it is to see those perfect ass cheeks pink and hot after a decent spanking.

 

 

  
He's trying not to be obvious, and it's downright sinful the way Mickey's throat feels as he fucks it shallowly, relishing in the hot wet slide of his mouth. It's taking all of his willpower to keep himself from standing up to shove himself deeper, harder.

 

 

  
At the next stop, all four women exit and no one else gets on. It's just the four of them in the car now, but the business man's back is to them and Ian uses it to his advantage, rolling his hips up a little more steadily, with more intent. Around his cock, Mickey is making small, choked whimpers that increase with the push of his hips and Ian can feel his resolve crumbling. Irrationally, he's angry at the standing man, wants him to get the fuck off the train.

 

 

  
"I wanna fuck your face," he can't stop himself from saying lowly, heatedly, watching himself slide in and out of Mickey's mouth, drawing in ragged breaths at the way the pale throat bulges slightly when he pushes in deeply.

 

 

  
Mickey can suck cock; Mickey can suck cock like nobody's fucking business, and in the back of his mind Ian briefly wonders if Lip knows just how good his boyfriend is. If he's ever pushed his limits the way Ian has begun to, if he's ever bothered to take cracks at Mickey's armor until all that's left is a determination to serve, to please.

 

 

  
There are fingers curled tightly in the fabric of Ian's pants, flexing rhythmically with the thrusts of Ian's hips.

 

 

  
Suddenly, the man at the front of the car turns around, meeting Ian's eyes. He can't see Mickey, Ian knows, but he's beginning to frown curiously, pausing the conversation he's having on his phone, expression bewildered and calculating. Mickey is oblivious to the exchange, thankfully, because Ian's sure he'd be on the receiving end of a swift punch to the gut before Mickey disappeared, leaving Ian with his dick out.

 

 

  
Deciding to take the risk, Ian drops his own jaw open, letting out an audible groan, not breaking his gaze with the other man.

 

 

  
Realization seems to dawn, and the man fumbles with his phone, very obviously mortified. He's glancing around anxiously now, and Ian feels smug in his success. Even if he had been a homophobic prick, Ian knows he could have taken the guy in a physical altercation, but he's grateful it won't resort to that.

 

 

  
At the next stop, the man hurriedly gets off, not sparing a second look over his shoulder. It leaves only the homeless man, but his body rolls heavily onto it's back and the man doesn't even stir slightly.

 

 

  
With new confidence, Ian pushes at Mickey, "get on your fucking knees," he says, and Mickey scrambles to obey. The movement of the train has Mickey needing to grip onto the seats to keep himself still while Ian starts brutally fucking his throat.

 

 

  
"Nnn, nnn," Mickey whines, eyes watering and all around his mouth is shiny and slick.

 

 

  
"Fucking good," Ian praises, stroking a thumb along the damp curve of Mickey's jaw, slipping up to trace along his bottom lip, "perfect mouth, so goddamn perfect."

 

 

  
On the ground, Mickey's thighs are spread and his own hips are rutting forward pathetically. Ian nearly growls, imagines getting Mickey into his bed, making him hump his mattress until he comes.

 

 

  
He tells Mickey as such, promises darkly that that's what they'll do, that's how Mickey will get him hard again after this.

 

 

  
He's close, balls aching for release because this - this was so much more then he expected and at the end of the evening he will be sure to soothe any doubts Mickey may have convinced himself of over the entirety of their session. Eventually, Mickey will be his completely, not a schedule. He will no longer share the older man with his brother and Ian will not only give Mickey everything he's got, but gladly take everything Mickey wishes to give him as well.

 

 

  
As he comes, Mickey pulls off without being asked, without being told and holds Ian's gaze steadily as Ian finishes all over his face. Thighs trembling, Ian smooths his hands through Mickey's hair, along his ears, petting along his cheeks and mouth to feed him his come. Nuzzling his wrists, the dark haired man accepts the gestures while he does up Ian's pants and by the time they arrive at the next stop, their stop, Mickey is standing like nothing happened.

 

 

  
On the platform, Mickey keeps his distance, but casts small, secretive smiles over his shoulder as he leads the way to Ian's apartment. Some of Ian's load is still on his face, and if someone knew what they were looking for they could probably tell.

 

 

  
But Ian, Ian lets Mickey guide them the long way there, even in the snow and contents himself to wait for the time moments like this are Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays and everyday before after and in between.

**Author's Note:**

> Will be accepting prompts for this universe: BDSM/Kink Heavy. 
> 
>  
> 
> I couldn't work out the physical logistics of how Ian could possibly finger Mickey on a train, just cause yaknow, men have different anatomies and Mickey isn't wearing a dress. Sorry, bb! But I hope this serves its purpose well enough! And like I said, whole universe. Ask for whatever!
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading! Namaste!


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